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My eavesdropping didn’t leave me much time to get ready. I don’t want to miss a second of whatever’s about to transpire downstairs, and I need to be on guard. There isn’t time for a shower, so I wash my face and the mess between my thighs from Alessio’s hands, trying not to think about it. I can unpack everything that happened later. Right now, I need to focus.
I dress and pull my hair into a bun in record time. My teeth are brushed hastily, and makeup applied as neatly as I can manage with my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I’m not sure what it is about that woman, apart from her obvious desire to see me gone, but something is prickling at my anxiety. People often talk about bad energy, and it comes to mind when I think of her. I didn’t have to hear what she said about me to feel this pit in my gut. I’ve had it before, and it didn’t lead me astray, but it didn’t protect me either. I know Gwen is bad news. I just need time to figure out why.
I close my door behind me and walk quietly to Nino’s room. When I open his door, I’m surprised to find him on the bed watching cartoons. It appears he woke early and took it upon himself to get ready. When he sees me, he smiles, and I return it eagerly. If there is one thing I know in all of this mess, it’s that I will never tire of seeing that beautiful face.
I sign to tell him good morning, and he does the same in return.
Breakfast? I ask.
He nods, sliding across the large bed with the out-of-place alien comforter to jump onto the bench below. Admittedly, the room looks a little strange with the comforter and the painting Alessio chose as the only bright pieces amongst everything else. But Nino is happy, and that’s all that matters.
He takes my hand in his without prompting, and together, we exit to the hall and walk downstairs. We only manage to make it to the foyer before Gwen comes out to greet us. Her eyes cut over me again and then move to Nino.
“Nino!” She shrieks. “Come here, my little lamb. Give your grandmother a hug.”
Grandmother? I’m trying to digest that information when Nino’s grip on me tightens. When I glance down at him, he’s staring at her with obvious discomfort.
“Nino,” she says, her voice a little firmer this time. “Don’t be rude. You should be happy to see me. Now give me a smile and a hug before you upset me.”
He looks up at me, his eyes betraying his reluctance. Nino isn’t overly affectionate. He holds my hand, but he likes to keep to himself. He’s quiet and introspective, and if Gwen is truly his grandmother, as she claims, she should know that about him.
You don’t have to, I sign to him. If you don’t like it.
His brows draw together as he replies. I don’t want to.
Gwen watches the interaction between us with hawk-like attention. “What are you doing?”
I glance down at Nino reassuringly, then retrieve my phone to write out a message for her.
Nino doesn’t feel like smiling right now, and he doesn’t want to be hugged. I told him he doesn’t have to.
Her eyes are practically spitting flames as she listens to the message. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Nino. I glance down at him and sign. Can you wait for me at the breakfast table?
He nods, skirting around Gwen while she watches him go in disbelief. Then she turns her venomous gaze back to me.
“What do you think you’re doing turning my grandson against me?”
I’m not turning anyone against you, I write. He expressed his feelings about it quite clearly. He did not want to smile, and he did not want a hug. I will not force him to mask his emotions or show affection if he doesn’t feel like it.
“He will respect me,” she shrieks. “You have no idea how our world works, and I’m telling you now, I am not a woman you want to cross. I won’t stand for this.”
Regardless of how your world may work, Nino is entitled to body autonomy. His emotions are valid, and when he’s in my care, I won’t force him to perform for the benefit of anyone. I am sorry if what happened hurt your feelings, but I stand by what I said. I’m here to look after Nino, and that includes his mental wellbeing. I do not subscribe to outdated philosophies that children should be raised to mask their emotions for the sake of an adult’s ego.
She listens to my response and scoffs, clearly not getting it. “He is a Sovereign Son. He’ll have to do plenty of things that make him uncomfortable. You can’t even wrap your simple-minded head around that notion.”
